


Clothes Maketh the Man

by BatShitCrazy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 12:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17725379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatShitCrazy/pseuds/BatShitCrazy
Summary: *~*~*~*~*Clark only ever saw Bruce fully covered in one suit or another, be it designer three piece or black kevlar.*~*~*~*~*





	Clothes Maketh the Man

**Author's Note:**

> *~*~*~*~*
> 
> I’ve been away from writing for a while and I really want to get back into my wip, Bats Bonds & Kryptonite. In the meantime, I thought I’d just throw out a one shot to dip my toes back in the water, so to speak. 
> 
> Superfast beta by Subatlove - thankyou <3
> 
> *~*~*~*~*

*~*~*~*~*

Bruce Wayne wore suits like no one Clark had ever seen. He knew they were worth more than his monthly salary, with brand names such as Armani, Tom Ford or those tuxedos, tailored to show off every curve and inch of that finely toned body.

The biggest problem was, Bruce looked so damned good in them. Like, really,  _ really _ , good. Every time Clark saw Bruce in a suit, his mouth dried up and he just wanted to reach out and touch. To muss up that perfection.

Clark had been to the Cave several times before, and Bruce always wore either the BatSuit or a button down shirt with sleeves rolled up. Muscular forearms flexed as the brilliant man worked on yet another project. But the thing was, Clark had  _ only _ ever seen Bruce in suits, shirtsleeves or the Batsuit. Sure, he could have cheated and used his x-ray vision, but instead he left it to his imagination. Mostly on those lonely nights in his apartment. *Ahem* 

It was early afternoon and Clark had dropped by on his way home from patrol. He didn’t have an invitation this time, just an ongoing want to see Bruce. Yes, it was becoming a problem for him but he wasn’t about to deny himself any opportunity that came up. 

A new drug he’d confiscated on the street needed investigating, and The World’s Greatest Detective just the man for the job. Hey, it was a valid excuse! He waited patiently outside the cliffside until the light went green on Batman’s security system. The last time he hadn’t waited had been fraught with security measures that included red sun lights that had drained his powers and nearly saw him shot by automatic weapons and lasers. He’d learnt his lesson.

Clark flew down the exit hangar for the BatPlane, and into the cave itself, only to pull up short by the sight of Bruce Wayne in workout gear. The tight singlet and small black shorts, slung low on hips, nearly made Clark swallow his own tongue. A sheen of sweat glistened across the broad expanse of skin as the Gothamite typed commands into the computer system. Clark ogled. He couldn’t take his eyes off the tight butt that filled his vision. He wanted nothing more than to fly over and nuzzle the muscles on display.

“Clark,” the man said, without turning around.

Clark remained speechless. As if in slow motion, Bruce straightened and turned to look at the guest in the Cave. A scowl flickered into existence at Clark’s lack of response. A few steps of shoeless feet brought the object of Clark’s desire closer. The snapping of fingers broke Clark’s trance and he realised that he had not stopped himself from drifting closer.

“Er…” was all Clark managed.

Bruce smirked at him and Clark could feel the start of a blush burn the tips of his ears.

“Drugs,” he stammered, groping at his belt for the little baggie he’d taken from the dealer.

Bruce raised an eyebrow before reaching forward to take the sachet.

“Different,” Clark stuttered as he gazed at the prominent collarbones that peeked out from Bruce’s singlet. 

Bruce took a final step closer, until they were almost chest to chest. Clark could smell the clean sweat and underlying hints of expensive cologne from Bruce’s heated body. Clark caught a glimpse of long fingers wrapping around the sample baggie but his eyes were glued to Bruce’s lips, still faintly panting from the workout the man had obviously been doing. 

“Clark, are you ok?” Bruce asked, seemingly concerned at his unusual behaviour.

“Um… Good, yes?” Clark uttered. “You….”

Clark clammed up, not knowing what to say. He lifted his eyes to meet the ice blue of the billionaire, seeing them laced with concern. Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder and Clark felt himself under a microscope as that intelligent brain looked at his face.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked. “Do you need anything?”

“Hungry,” Clark croaked. “Thirsty.”

“Let me get you something,” Bruce replied, turning as if to move away.

Clark’s hand shot out and grasped Bruce by the elbow.

“No, I, ah, you,” Clarks words continued to fail him.

“Clark,” Bruce said softly.

Bruce’s gaze softened and a small smile quirked at the edge of his lips. Clark felt himself drawn in further.

“You’re always in your suits, not that I’m complaining, you wear them so well. But, you, those shorts and that singlet and I just want to lick you because you look so edible, and my brain is frying.” Clark’s words tumbled out in a rush.

“Edible?”

Clark took a mortified breath. However, he’d come too far to back out now.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Edible.”

“Clark,” Bruce began in a reasonable tone. “Which is it? Is it edible or do you want to lick me?”

Clark’s brain melted on the spot. Was Bruce asking as an invitation or was he about to be made fun of. He could never tell with this inscrutable man.

“Can I…. taste?” Clark asked bravely.

Without changing his expression, Bruce tilted his head to the side. Clark watched a rivulet of sweat run down the side of Bruce’s neck and moved in to catch it with his tongue. The sweet salty taste made him moan in pure bliss. He leaned back to catch Bruce’s expression.

“Was that all you wanted, Clark?” Bruce deadpanned.

Clark was at a loss, did Bruce think it was some alien curiosity thing? Did the man want more as well? So many questions flooded his mind all at once.

“Well, besides running an analysis on the drug sample,” Clark began, before he smiled a little bashfully. “I could do with a bite.”

The two men stared at each other intently, heat rose between them, and Clark could hear the increased heartbeat of the man in front of him.

“I wouldn’t want to deprive you,” Bruce said huskily.

Clark leaned forward to scrape his teeth at the juncture between neck and shoulders, and felt Bruce shiver under his lips. He crowded into Bruce’s space, hands slipped under the tank top to grip at Bruce’s hips, thumbs curled into the damp flesh. He leaned back to look deeply into Bruce’s dilated eyes. Clark felt himself mesmerized by the slightly parted lips, and he resisted no longer. He sucked in a sharp breath, knowing he was being too forward, but it was too late now. The line had well and truly been crossed. He let himself kiss Bruce. It was better than he had ever imagined but he dragged himself back after a few seconds. He needed to know if Bruce really wanted this and wasn’t somehow just humouring him.

“Bruce,” Clark began, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

Bruce had fingers in Clark’s hair and tugged him back in to lock lips once more. Bruce’s tongue swept over his lips and he opened up to the probing heat. Clark felt his knees go weak because the kiss turned passionate in moments. He felt his arms wrap around the broad frame he had only dreamed of, and he pulled them close, pressed from lips to knees.

When they broke for air, he heard Bruce gasp his name. He leaned back until their foreheads touched.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered.

Bruce’s eyes widened. “You have?”

“Yes, Bruce, I think, well, I might be…” he trailed off, uncertain at the last minute.

“You might be what, Kal?”

Clark’s heart beat in his chest at hearing his Kryptonian name from those kiss reddened lips. He took a breath, for courage, and let his words spill out.

“I’m in love with you,” Clark said with as much confidence as he could muster.

“What?” the voice was a deep growl and Clark faltered. 

“Sorry, I just thought you should know. This isn’t just a one time thing for me. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, and I don’t want it to make things weird in the League, but,” Clark’s voice tapered off to nothingness.

Bruce stared at him. “You,” the vigilante said finally.

Clark wasn’t sure what Bruce was going to say next. His pulse raced and he put all his hopes on the line.

“Yes,” he stated simply.

“You, love me?” Bruce queried.

Clark could only nod, hold on tight, and pray to Rao that he hadn’t destroyed his friendship. He thought he’d read Bruce’s responses correctly but the man was an enigma at the best of times.

“Say it again,” the man whispered, breath fanning Clark’s face.

Clark’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, and a smile widened on his face.

“I love you,” he stated strongly.

Bruce was kissing him again, hot and desperate, open mouthed and dirty. Hands ran through his hair, over his chest and Clark pulled Bruce closer, soaking up the feel of Bruce’s back and ass. Clark sucked and bit, pressed his leg between Bruce’s thighs and ground himself against lean, defined muscle. 

“You love me,” Bruce was breathless but smiling just for Clark.

“Do you want me to say it again,” Clark laughed.

“No,” Bruce stated, giving Clark pause. “I want you to take me upstairs, now.”

“So bossy,” Clark giggled, as he gathered Bruce up in his arms and prepared to fly them out of the Cave.

“I may be bossy,” Bruce snarked. “But I love you too, Kal.”

Clark could feel the grin that overtook his face as warmth filled him from his boots to his hair.

“I could get used to bossy if that’s the case,” he said happily.

“Well then, get on with it, Clark,” Bruce demanded. “I have waited long enough as it is.”

Clark happily complied.

/Fin

*~*~*~*~*

  
  



End file.
